Author Note:
Many thanks to meyouthem123 and StephtheWriter for being my sounding boards when I was trying to find my way with this chapter. You guys were open-minded and non-judgmental through what proved to be a challenging write. Here it is, finally, in its eighth iteration... ~b
Trigger warning for sensitive topics.
Chapter 19: In Hot Water
The high pitched, continuous beep caught Stef's attention. Right away, she noticed that the little light on the keypad was red.
Denial instinctively protected her from the discovery and her first thought was to troubleshoot. She tried to recall if the alarm ran on a lithium ion and how long it was covered under warranty, figuring that either the battery had died or the device was malfunctioning. Sidestepping toward the closet to get a closer look, the cop felt the hair on the back of her neck rise at seeing the vault door ajar.
"What the hell?" she gasped with incredulity. She was sure she had locked it. The last time she had been in uniform had been Tuesday afternoon, when she had unsuccessfully tried to send Callie to her room. Deciding to give the teen some space to calm down until Lena came home, she had gone upstairs to change. She definitely remembered the beep of the safe closing—the sound ingrained and expected over decades of hearing it.
It had only ever gone off once before, during the testing phase of the installation process. Stef already had the vault at home as she had been working at the precinct for several years at that point; however, she and Lena decided to add the alarm as an extra precaution after they started fostering Jesus and Mariana.
The children, so used to having people coming in and out of their home and not having a proper sleep-wake routine, kept them up all hours of the night. After a few weeks of stressful night shifts and unexpected overtime on top of the sleep deprivation, Stef had woken up to discover that while her service weapon had been returned to its rightful spot, the door had been left unlocked. With Lena's help, she found an intrusion alarm that could be installed without replacing the whole unit. It sat just on the inside wall and was connected to a minuscule metal disk that went between the door and the safe. The sensor was reverse pressure sensitive, set to activate if the door was left open for more than five minutes.
After that incident, Stef developed a meticulous routine to minimize the chance of missing a step. Even with the alarm, she worried about forgetting items in the bedroom so she started facing the closet to change at the end of each shift. After returning low risk items to the safe, she would remove the handgun from its holster and disengage it from the magazine before putting both away and locking the vault. Her uniform shirt and slacks shared the same wooden hanger, the duty belt precariously balanced over the pants.
Right away, the woman picked up on the stark contrast in Callie's demeanour. Unlike the defensiveness Stef had seen when she had first come into the bedroom, her daughter had become strangely subdued. As if she were a little kid caught doing something wrong and accepting that she couldn't hide her misbehaviour.
"Callie, stop," she uttered in cautious disbelief, alarmed by the girl trying to sidle away in her peripheral vision. "Stop right there, please."
With a great deal of reluctance, the girl complied. She was all too familiar with just how loudly Stef could yell when she got angry enough and dread set in as she awaited the reaction. But even though she knew that there'd be no getting out of this one, she was unable to bring herself to face her foster mother.
It didn't matter, Callie learned, as she soon found the woman standing before her.
As much as Stef tried not to jump to conclusions, her mind was all over the place and she imagined every possible worst case scenario as she tried to make sense of the evidence confronting her. Callie was chewing her bottom lip and fidgeting with her hands, unable to meet her gaze—the classic signs of nervousness.
"Look at me," she said sternly.
God, how she hated using that line with Callie who had been trained to avoid direct eye contact—that it was a means to confrontation and violence. Both she and Lena had been diligently working on dispelling this notion, trying not to push it too much with Callie and Jude to help ease the transition. But it had been so hard lately. It felt like all she did was to tell her child to look her in the eye with the hope that doing so would drive home whatever point she was trying to make and curb Callie's misbehaviour.
Unwilling to wait for an answer in her impatience, Stef ducked her head to search the teen's face for a possible explanation. She hoped that her suspicions would be proven wrong this time around.
Callie's reaction was telling. Still looking down, she turned her head slightly to give the cop a rueful wince before averting her gaze. The tremor in her voice was unmistakable.
"Stef?"
At the sudden realization that duty had come to call in her own home, Stef instinctively stepped back and adopted the ready position. Arms close to her side with elbows at ninety degrees, she kept her knees slightly bent in the event she needed to move fast.
Her crisis management skills, which she had been having a great deal of difficulty implementing just an hour ago outside, finally kicked in. For everyone's safety and for her own sense of ethical responsibility, Stef knew that she would need to follow protocol and go with her assumptions for the time being.
That part was easy, ingrained into her procedural memory after decades of practice.
It was how she would remain a mother in all of this that was the hard part.
Doing a quick once over of the girl, she was grateful for the dumb luck that had been with her when she hastily picked Callie's outfit earlier that day. The overalls were slim cut, the bib front the only area with a bit of bagginess. While the front pockets had held everything the teen dropped onto the floor, they were far too shallow to hide a handgun. Stef figured that the back pockets would likely be similar in style but without having seen them, she needed to exercise due diligence.
"Listen carefully to me, Callie. You've been in a room where you had access to a weapon and I need to make sure you are safe," she spoke evenly, trying to convey a sense of urgency. "Do you understand?"
Receiving a surprised look, Stef realized with some guilt that it was the first time the girl had heard her as if she were at her job.
"I— I didn't—" Callie began, immediately getting cut off.
"Yes or no, sweets."
"Yes," Callie whispered. She had never heard her foster mother talk to her in this way before.
"I'm going to need you to do a few things very shortly," Stef began, choosing her words carefully as she forced her panic down. All she could do was hope that a warning about next steps would help move the process along.
Off duty officers were obligated to conduct searches and make arrests if justified but Callie likely didn't know any of this. Worried that the girl would fight her if she didn't understand, Stef knew that she needed to modify her approach if they were to avoid going down that path. Under no circumstance could she afford refusal or resistance—because the thought of having to conduct a full pat down of Callie perpetuating her fear of the police nearly made her physically ill.
"It's very, very important that you follow my direction and not do anything other than what is asked of you. No sudden movements, okay? I will not put my hands on you unless I have reason to believe you have a gun on you," she commanded in a way that she hoped would induce some respect and compliance. Although Stef did not want to scare her, she really needed Callie's compliance—now more than ever.
"Yes or no?"
"Yes," Callie whimpered.
"Good girl," the woman praised.
"Arms up and out to your side where I can see them," she instructed, grateful when her daughter obeyed.
"Turn to your right and face the door. No, no—keep your arms up where they are," she gently corrected when Callie dropped her arms and went to cross her wrists behind her back. "Atta girl." A wave of relief washed over the cop when she saw both back pockets were empty.
"I didn't do what you think I did," the girl argued although she did as she was told. She sounded afraid, her voice trembling from the stress of it all for she was sure the cop was going to arrest her.
"Shhh. Not now, baby. Keep turning to your right. I need you to face the bed for me," she coaxed.
Although Stef had told herself she had a job to do and not to engage with Callie to make things easier on the both of them, she was finding it challenging to detach herself. It was impossible to stop being a parent—to not want to protect and maintain a sense of safety for her child from what she could only imagine was a terrifying situation.
She took a deep breath before moving toward Callie, stopping to stand directly beside her shoulder as the teen stiffened beside her. "You're doing great, Callie. Almost done. Almost done," she soothed, trying to calm her down. They were so close to the home stretch now that it'd be a damned shame for things to unravel.
"Lower your arms for me, love. It'll be more comfortable." She was relieved when her daughter dropped her arms, emphasizing the bagginess in the top half of the overalls. Being a full head taller than Callie, it was easy to see that there was nothing hidden between the tee shirt and the front panel.
"Thank you. Stay right there where I can see you," she said, issuing her last directive at the dejected minor standing before her as she made her way back to the closet.
Now that she was sure that the girl was unarmed, the vault itself was the only thing left to check. Widening the little door while keeping Callie in her field of vision, she let out a drawn out breath at seeing her handgun. She double-checked that the safety switch was still on and the magazine was disconnected, being intentional about keeping her hands in the compartment so she wouldn't frighten Callie. After taking inventory of the remaining gear, she reset the alarm and carefully pushed on the door until she heard a click. The keypad light changed to green when the electronic mechanism fully engaged.
As she worked through her usual process, Stef's frustration mounted. Not only had Callie put herself at risk, but she had thrusted a potentially volatile situation upon her that shattered the safety she and Lena had worked so hard to establish in their home. Together with the fact that the girl had turned their room inside out just so she could toke up, Stef couldn't help but feel a sense of violation.
She couldn't believe Callie's audacity to do any of this after she had been brought home for running away and their exchange outside. They were beyond just stubborn defiance now—Callie's recent choices illustrating just how far her disregard of her probation and lack of respect for boundaries went.
The knot in Callie's stomach grew as she watched her foster mother check over her police gear and she realized she had gone too far this time. To be honest, the possibility of getting caught had seemed unlikely and it had been easy to let it slip from her mind once the vault door was closed and the items were stashed away in her pockets. But now that Stef had discovered the truth, Callie couldn't figure out what she'd been thinking when she decided to go through their room and what compelled her to unlock the gun safe as part of that endeavour.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Still trying to recover from her panic, Stef took a deep, steady breath. Unable to bring herself to face her daughter just yet, she looked straight up and blinked away tears before turning away from the closet. "Are you sorry or are you sorry you got caught?"
"I know you're really mad—"
"Angry does not even begin to describe what I'm feeling right now!" she snapped. "Honestly, Callie! I can't believe you. I don't even know what to say to get through to you anymore." She let an uncomfortable silence settle between them as she maintained a hardened gaze at Callie, hoping that the teen would get the hint that she was expecting some sort of explanation from her.
"I swear, it's not like that. It's not what it looks like—" Callie began.
"Then what? What is it supposed to look like? Tell me what this is all about because to me it looks like you just broke into my gun safe," the cop responded, not letting her finish.
She continued to berate the girl when she didn't receive a timely answer. "When I ask you a question I expect an answer! Did you or did you not break into the safe?"
"I wasn't breaking in!" Callie protested, dismayed at the situation she had managed to get herself into. While she had expected Stef to be upset with her, she hadn't ever seen Stef so furiously angry; her eyes were hard and jaw set in a tight line.
"I just entered the code and opened the door," she mumbled, only recognizing how much of a smart ass she sounded like after the words had left her mouth.
"You entered the code and opened the door," Stef repeated, incredulous that Callie was choosing this moment to give her attitude.
"If gaining access to something that is locked—off limits to every single person in this house other than me—is not considered breaking in then what is it? What would you call it, Callie?" she said angrily. Despite seeing the fear and anxiety etched on the young girl's face, she continued to fix her with a stern glare. Callie's gaze flitted back and forth until she let it fall completely, unable to look at her foster mother any longer.
Desperate to abate the woman's fury, Callie tried again to explain herself. "I didn't touch your gun, I swear Stef."
"If telling me this is supposed to make me less upset, then we've got a problem, Callie! It doesn't matter whether you touched it! Not that I would know if you're being truthful about it anyway," she scolded tersely, unable to remember the arrangement of the items in the safe. "This is about trust! You knowingly accessed things I keep locked for a reason. Did you think I wouldn't find out? Huh?"
"Mama and I have explained to you in no uncertain terms what the expectations are in this house. There are a lot of rules, yes, but we have an open door policy when it comes to our bedroom. Why, Callie, might you think that's the case?"
"Because we trust you!" the woman answered for her, not willing to hear what Callie might come up with. "We want to believe you have the maturity level and respect for our space to not do stuff like this!" she scolded as she gestured to the aftermath of Callie tearing apart their room.
The cop continued to issue stern words, her voice climbing, even as Callie's chin began to tremble. "One thing you'll learn is that it takes a lot of time and hard work to earn trust but it's so easy to lose. I'm really disappointed in you, Callie. Your behaviour shows that we need to think twice when you tell us something and wonder if you're being honest with us."
"I didn't mean to mess up! It was a mistake!" Callie shouted, becoming tearful at the woman's disappointment with her.
"NO! A mistake is a misunderstanding—when you don't know any better!" Stef yelled. Her impatience was hitting a fever pitch, exacerbated by the girl's refusal to take responsibility for her actions and limited understanding of why what she did was wrong.
"This was not a mistake; it was a bad choice. You had options and you chose to act in a certain way when you knew better."
Despite doing a breathing exercise in an effort to quell her frustration, Stef couldn't help the harsh edge in her voice. "I do not know what's been going on with you but you have been deliberately defying Mama and I, being disrespectful and fighting us this entire week. Your conduct has been reprehensible today. Running away, going through our belongings, stealing…getting high."
"But you know what—I can deal with all of that. I can try and get as close to understanding where you were coming from. What I can't accept nor understand is you breaking into my safe. You crossed a line there and I am going to make sure you aren't ever tempted to make a choice like this again," she said. Her voice shook with sadness, frustration, and fear as her mind once again wandered to the very worst place it could go: Callie playing with her gun and hurting herself or someone else.
"I love you too much to let you get away with something like this," Stef said, determined to set her daughter straight as she reflected upon the significant inroads she and Lena had made with her. Callie had come a long way since coming to them and the changes they had seen in her in the past few months had not only exceeded Bill's expectations but were a testament to her resilience.
At hearing the unmistakable tremor, Callie looked up questioningly at her foster mother and was surprised at the tears in the woman's eyes. It was the very last thing she expected; crying wasn't something she had ever seen Stef do and that realization alone made her wish she could rewind the last hour and start over.
"Come here," Stef ordered firmly, snapping her fingers at the girl and pointing at the floor in front of her. She felt her temper fray even more when Callie refused and stepped away from her.
"Now."
"I am not playing. You are in deep trouble, young lady. I suggest you do not make things more difficult for yourself by disobeying me right now," she warned, increasingly frustrated with Callie's attempts to avoid punishment.
She could see that Callie was nervous and that the alarm bells were starting to sound as the words sank in; however, Stef was determined. There was no way she was going to allow Callie to keep sabotaging her own progress and risk being taken back into custody where she would certainly slip through the cracks in the system even more. Not without exhausting all options available to her, anyway.
"No…"
Finally losing patience, Stef marched over and nabbed her by the arm. "What—what did I tell you about telling me no? You listen when I tell you to do something!" she whispered harshly.
Every ounce of logic told Callie to stay still—to comply so she wouldn't provoke the woman any more than she already had. But as she caught sight of the raised palm held at Stef's waist level, wrist cocked and fingers locked together, instinct screamed at her to defend herself.
Fully understanding what the cop intended to do, Callie began to cry. She twisted in the grip Stef had on her upper arm to try and get as far away from her hand as possible and threw her free arm back to protect herself.
Callie looked up hesitantly as she faced the woman. "Stef…d— don't," she said, failing to choke back a sob—her quiet protest more out of trepidation and confusion than anything else.
Stef's heart broke at her daughter's tears but at this point, she was certain that backing out would only add to the confusion. When she spoke next, her words came through desperate, no longer harbouring any of the harshness that had been present earlier. She needed Callie to hear her out and understand why she was being disciplined.
"I'm sorry, Callie, but this is what's happening. I am at a loss as to what else to do to get you to abide by our rules—to take us seriously when we tell you that you need to listen."
"Actions have consequences—you don't have to like it but you do need to accept that. Until you can show me you can respect our rules, this is the consequence for how you went about breaking our trust today."
Callie wanted to scream as her stomach flipped in fear and anticipation. Please don't do this. Please don't. You promised. You promised me!
"Move your hand," Stef said quietly. She paused, hoping that the girl would do as she was told, but shook her head sadly when she only came up against stubborn resistance.
"You are in hot water, Callie." In one swift move, she tugged her by the arm to bring her towards her and to the side.
In the struggle, Callie was forced to withdraw her free arm with which she was defending herself so she wouldn't lose her footing. She yelped and flinched as the woman swatted her hard across her bottom, hearing the slap echo before feeling its sting.
Steeling her resolve, Stef quickly brought her hand down twice more—wanting to follow through before her daughter could negotiate her way out of her grip.
Before Callie's cries at the sharp, deliberate reminders and her own self-doubt would get to her and make her question everything about her decision.